


The Looking Glass

by tellmesomethingnew



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst, F/M, Fluff and Smut, Hurt/Comfort, Mystery, Temporary Character Death, Tragic Romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-12-01
Updated: 2015-01-05
Packaged: 2018-02-27 18:13:52
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,772
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2702474
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tellmesomethingnew/pseuds/tellmesomethingnew
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Hermione has been killed, or as she?</p><p>Summary to change later.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Handsome Stranger

**Author's Note:**

> This will be a small short-chaptered series based off of a dream I had. Please note that I had to quickly type up this chapter before I left for work and it will probably be corrected later should it seem rushed. Thank you.

Hermione's throat was raw when she screamed. Her eyes shot open and looked around the dark, musty forest around her, and then down at her leaf-covered body. Memories of what had just happened before--whether dream or not--left her touching her elbows, her stomach, her legs, checking that she was in one piece despite the memories of being blown to bits and pieces.

The scent of years worth of dead leaves and earth filled her nostrils, tilting her head up to see a dark blue, cloudy sky.

Her breath came heavy, ghosting before her as she looked around, her eyes adjusting to the darkness of the forest until her eyes landed on a peculiar object. 

The mirror must have stood six feet tall, old and edged with a golden frame resting up against the tree. 

She dusted herself off as she got to her feet, walking up to the mirror with wobbly knees and a strong feeling of fatigue. 

What she saw in the mirror's reflection confused her.

In the mirror wasn't a dark forest, or dead leaves, or a tattered girl, but a bright sun-lit meadow and Hermione dressed in her Hogwarts robes.

_What the-_

She looked around, rubbing at her eyes in hopes that this was just a weird dream.

"Wake up," she told herself in a scratchy voice as she pinched herself wincing but finding no relief.

She stared down at her scuffed boots and then to the worn gray brick path beneath her feet.  _Maybe this could lead me out of here_ , she thought as she turned herself around to where the path lead away from the mirror. She walked upon the path, stepping over tree roots that protruded through the bricks, and ducking under low branches, even dodging overgrown bushes of poison berries.

_Where the bloody hell am I_ _?_  

Suddenly, the forest came to a clearing, a small courtyard before a gate framed with high hedges. 

Above, the sky suddenly flashed with lightning and Hermione could smell the acidic rain in the air. 

She didn't even get to reach the gates before she was soaked through with the heavy cold rain, yanking on the gates to open. First, they were locked, then, they opened, showing a hooded figure standing in her path, holding a wand.

"Come this way, Hermione Granger. I wouldn't wish pneumonia on anyone," came a young silky male voice.

"Do I know you?" Hermione called out, almost freezing in step at the view of the castle in the distance. 

"This way, Miss Granger," the man told her softly, lighting the tip of his wand in the darkness without a verbal spell. He led her to the castle, which stood dark and haunting in the rain and cloudy atmosphere. 

"Who are you?" Hermione asked him again as she struggled to keep up with his fast pace.

The man reached an entrance to the castle, somewhat similar to a servant's entrance. 

Little did she know, her and this man were the only ones here. And little to her knowledge, she wasn't exactly alive, nor dead. Like this man leading her through the door and into a kitchen where a large hearth was burning. She scurried over to the hearth and put her hands out, feeling the heat from the flames as she breathed a heavy but shaky sigh.

The kitchen was old-looking and covered in dust and long-forgotten wooden dishes, reminding her of something out of a historic picture of an abandoned castle. The walls were lined with brick and everything was neglected save for the hearth.

The man came over, pushing his hood back and then shrugging out of his cape, hanging it up on a hook above the hearth as rain dropped from the bottom of it.

"Do you have your wand with you?" The man asked her. She felt for her pockets, soon realizing the wand that stuck in her sock. She reached down and rolled up her jean's pant leg and pulled out the wand.

The man took the wand from her without warning, gazing at it as Hermione got to gaze at him.

The man didn't seem to be a stranger, yet she still didn't have any knowledge of who he really was. He couldn't have been older than her with a hauntingly beautiful, handsome face, focused green eyes that flickered in the firelight. His skin was pale, but he didn't shiver like Hermione. He wore dress slacks, a worn off-white button up oxford with the sleeves rolled up at the sides, and the collar unbuttoned, showing parts of his collar bones.

"Who are you?" She repeated.

The man's eyes met with hers and she shivered, unsure if it was because of how cold she was, or the intensity of his stare.

"It's best you don't know," he said after a while. His eyes raked down her form and he handed her wand back to her. "Impressive wand. If you come with me I can get you some dry clothes. You're shivering."

She took the wand from him, unaware of how she grabbed it, which ensued their fingers to brush and a crackle of electricity to coarse through her from the contact. She held her wand in her hands, breathing a small sigh as she nodded her head and looked around again as she she followed him.

She didn't know this place, wasn't sure where she was, or who this handsome stranger was, but that wouldn't keep her from being on high alert. She already lined up spells in her mind, ready for anything this stranger could throw at her.


	2. Neither Dead Nor Alive

A dull ache remained in Hermione's head as she stared around the dusty, old room that was to serve as her bedroom. Her vision was fuzzy as she leaned against the doorway, watching the handsome stranger open up cobweb-covered dressers and a wardrobe, pulling out clothes. Upon closer inspection, he had pulled out a soft rose pink dress, under dress, stockings, and simple flats which were all mysteriously her size after she had held them up to herself.

Off to the side, a separate room with no door showed a claw foot tub sitting in the middle of a small bath room steaming with hot water waiting for Hermione.

"Where am I?" Hermione asked as she continued to watch him. He had just pulled out his wand, swishing it length ways to the right in front of the bed which caused the dusty unused covers and sheets to be transformed into what looked to be clean and fresh.

"You're dead," said the stranger softly, straightening the covers and sheets with his own hands as he shoved his wand into an inner pocket of his gray coat he wore.

She raised her eyebrows, opening her arms to motion to herself. "Am I?"

The man turned his head and looked at her for a moment. "Not exactly."

"What about you? Are you dead?" She asked next, crossing her arms over her chest as she eyed the clothes she had sat down on a bench that sat at the foot of the bed. 

"Not exactly," he repeated.

"At least give me one, simple name," she soon demanded. A plead was in her voice as she eyed the stranger closer. He looked at war with himself over his thoughts.

"Tom."

She felt a weight fall off her shoulders. "Tom," she tested. The man turned his head and sent her a blank look. "How do you know who I am?" Her voice now had become just above a whisper.

He shrugged. "I just do. I know all things."

"Do you know what this place is?"

"Not exactly."

Anger built up in her chest. "Then what is this place."

"It's...a cross between...the living and the dead."

"So...I'm dead...but not exactly."

Tom motioned to the bath. "You'd better warm yourself up before you catch a cold. I'll be waiting downstairs in the kitchen. A soup will be ready for you."

And with that, Tom left the room, closing the door to the hallway behind him as his footsteps dissipated and Hermione was left to her own thoughts. Confused and dazed, Hermione stumbled into the bath area, shrugging out of her cold, ragged clothes and into the scalding water that sent a shiver down her spine, a shiver of relaxation. She huffed a sigh and closed her eyes, lining up more questions to ask Tom when she'd join him for supper.

None of this made any sense. Never, in her entire life, had she read anything about this. No book would have prepared her as to how she should feel about it. Should she be happy she wasn't completely dead? Should she be worried? How long would she be here? And even worse, could she return to the living?

Relaxing her head back against the edge of the tub, she closed her eyes and sighed softly, enjoying the warmth of the water while she had the moment to herself.

Meanwhile, Hermione's hidden presence was being carefully kept under watch. In the world of the living, Luna, with her light blonde curls swaying against her upper thighs, Harry, with his hands balled into nervous fists, and Ron, with his lips formed into a thin line and his jaw tightened, stood in the sunshine-filled courtyard of a castle beyond the Forbidden Forest.

Had anyone known this was here? All three had a sense that this place was long-forgotten, but the image of no overgrowth and the place being kept under perfect condition, suggested otherwise.

"She's lost," Luna murmured.

"Lost? What does she mean by that!" Ron cried, twisting his face into a deep, disgusted worry.

"Luna?" Harry asked her calmly.

Luna furrowed her thin eyebrows and looked around the place.

"She's neither dead nor alive, I can see her aura," started Luna as she turned to Harry and Ron. "She'll have a choice to make. All we can do is wait and track down her presence."

Ron and Harry exchanged a look. In truth, Luna would seem mad to anyone, but to them, they knew that trusting Luna's words were the best shot they had at getting Hermione to return to them.

"She's not alone," Luna said quickly after a moment of completely silence.

"Not alone? What d'you mean?" Ron asked as he took a step closer to Luna.

Harry met eyes with Luna. "She's with a spirit like herself. But something is telling me this spirit won't help her much with her decision."

"Can we do anything?" Harry asked.

Luna looked beyond them, into nothingness as she thought. 

"There may be something you could do..."


End file.
